K. Rajagopal has been in the Singapore film
scene since the mid-nineties, making award-winning shorts as well as directing
segments in omnibus works like Lucky 7 (2008)
and 7 Letters(2015). It is only inevitable that he would deliver
his first feature, albeit some twenty years later.

A Yellow
Bird,
as it is called, a title named after a story that the director’s mother once
told him—when you see a yellow bird, there is hope. Of course, the film is not about any birds,
yellow or otherwise, but about a man desperate to experience hope again through
redemption.

Starring Sivakumar Palakrishnan as Siva, the Singaporean-Indian
man in question, A Yellow Bird depicts
his journey of torment, guilt, regret and solace from his point-of-view. The performance is extraordinary, and it is a
rare joy to see such an intense display.
Palakrishnan also dovetails well with the supporting cast, blessed with
the international talents in Huang Lu (Blind Massage, 2014) and Seema Biswas (Bandit
Queen, 1994).

Siva has just been released from prison, a
punishing stint that has caused his family to break apart. Out to seek forgiveness from his mother, and
search for his ex-wife and daughter again, he barely survives taking up
low-paying jobs like dishwashing and working in Chinese funeral
processions.

It is not a dialogue-driven film, though I must
say that vulgarities and racial slurs are unexpectedly generous. It is a dark and bleak film with long
silences, captured in long takes via largely handheld shots that create a
nervous undercurrent. There are plenty
of close-ups on Siva, usually shot in low-key lighting that occasionally masks
some of his features, as if he is in the periphery between light and shadow, in
a no man’s land really.

I believe Rajagopal’s intention was to create a
raw, no-frills style that brings an authentic and organic quality to the
film. The director has cited the
Dardennes as one of his influences, and it is quite clear how some of the documentary-like
naturalism inherent in their work has translated into the film.

The flaw of A
Yellow Bird, however, is that despite exuding a sense of assurance that the
film knows where it is going, and how it is going to get there, it is not
without its moments of monotony. Maybe
the pacing could have been tighter, and I think it is possible to have done so
without compromising the look and style of the work.

There are times when it overindulges in too
long a shot, or too lengthy a focus, perhaps intentionally in service of the
school of filmmaking that privileges the expression of psychology and emotion
through the humdrum and the seemingly mundane.
It can be great cinema when done astutely. But I don’t think I can honestly say that for
A Yellow Bird. Nonetheless, Rajagopal’s work represents the
right direction for Singapore cinema, and should inspire more of our filmmakers
to take the path less trodden.

Verdict: There are strong performances, and the film
is shot in a raw, no-frills style that gives it its authenticity, but it is not
without its moments of monotony.